


A Taste of Home

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When soldiers from the Ishval war are passing through, someone with a brave heart and good intentions brings them a taste of home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written eons ago for FMA Fic Contest, but very appropriate for today. Please enjoy!

_My beloved Gracia,  
You probably won't believe this. I hardly did myself. But today, I met someone that reminded me what bravery really is..._  
  
Her name was Trisha Elric. Hughes stood beside her and the sturdy horse-drawn cart that she had boldly driven right up to the patrol guards at the perimeter of his unit's camp. The scent of home cooked stew made his stomach rumble, and he watched as soldiers lined up to take their portion of the bounty. She had brought two giant cast-iron pots of it, the likes of which he could just barely remember his grandmother using when he and his parents came over for dinner. The food smelled just as good too, like a home the war had tried to make him forget. It twisted him a little inside to see some of his fellow men look at both Trisha and the food as if a mirage had followed them from the desert and would vanish if they sought either comfort.  
  
_...Our unit is stationed just outside a town called Risembool. Some Ishvalan terrorists went after a train car with military supplies from Central, so they pulled us and a few alchemists as reinforcements. I really think there are more sheep than people here. They clump together out in the fields and it looks like snow..._  
  
It had been so strange to watch her approach their camp, her smile unwavering and her resolve even more so. “I wanted to give the men a taste of home,” he had heard her say. And from behind her skirts peered a little boy with terrified round eyes, tiny hands gripping the fabric so tight while she talked to the wary, trigger-sensitive soldiers. Hughes didn't know whether to applaud her bravery or think her daft for not only bringing herself to the edges of a war zone, but her child as well. Yet she stood with her shoulders squared and insisted that she hadn't brought all that food out there to go to waste. When his commanding officer had relented and sent word in to the troops to start a mess hall line, Hughes went over to introduce himself.  
  
_...A woman came to our camp. Not just any woman, a mother and her two sons. They brought us food, real food that didn't come from a tin can or yesterday's refuse. It's the first time I've felt human in a very long time, and she reminded me of you..._  
  
The woman kept a watchful eye on the other boy in the back of the cart, who eagerly slopped stew into whatever dishes the soldiers could find. Some brought their tin coffee cups, others used cans from the previous day's rations. Her son's carefree laugh bubbled up every time he would sneak just a little extra for each soldier, as if he were getting away with a devious deed. The sound was surreal amidst the battle-weary troops, but only rarely ceased to get a man's lips to quirk upward. The younger boy never left Trisha's side, clinging to her while she stroked his dark blonde hair.  
  
“Your husband's a lucky man, Mrs. Elric,” Hughes told her, just as watchful over his fellow men as she was of her oldest boy. “Surprised he let you come here alone.”  
  
“He's traveling abroad,” she replied, her smile unwavering, but he heard something catch in her voice. “I can just imagine what he would say.” Her blue-green eyes turned to him. “Are you married Mr. Hughes?”  
  
“I got a girl back home,” he replied with a dreamy grin.  
  
_...For a few hours, we could forget everything else and remember what we left behind. What we're fighting for. Even the alchemists got a chance to feel like people instead of weapons..._  
  
“Mom. Mom!” the older boy squeaked, nearly bouncing off the back of the cart. “Look!” He turned to the soldier in front of him, who stood with a cup of steaming stew and a perplexed expression on his face. “Hey, mister-sir, can I see your hand again? That's alchemy, right?”  
  
Hughes chuckled to himself as Roy raised his gloved hand for the boy to see.  
  
_...As bizarre as it all was, I can't help hoping that this was a sign. That home is still out there, that it's a hope we don't have to talk about in whispers like a fragile dream..._  
  
They left before the sun went down, and Hughes watched the cart disappear back towards the hills until he could no longer see it. The camp was buzzing with chatter about the young woman and her two boys. The soldiers took turns keeping watch while their brothers-in-arms finished their food. Even while the threat of the enemy loomed to the east, there was something uplifting about the scent of home cooking that still lingered after the family's departure. Hughes sat down next to Mustang, raising his tin of stew in a silent toast. The tired smile he got in return was an appropriate finale to the unpredictable interlude of Trisha Elric and her sons.  
  
_...I can't help thinking that if you had been able, you would have done the same thing. And it just reminds me even more that you are the home I want to return to. Wherever you are, my beautiful angel, that's home._  
  
_Soon._  
  
_Love, Maes_


End file.
